“Oh? And how was that?” Sheila asked.
Tony was never surprised that Caucasians were ignorant of the history of Chinese people in California, but she was tolerant.
“Rank discrimination, naturally. They packed us into Chinatown and wouldn’t let us have certain jobs. You know, the usual.”
Sheila looked at her closely. “Nope. I didn’t. You identify as Chinese?”
“Yep, I do, mostly.”
Sheila smiled. “You’ll have to tell me more about that.”
“Uh-huh. Let’s go to the museum. It’ll be warmer inside.”
They approached the entrance to the Palace of the Legion of Honor, an art museum as grandiose as its name. It had been named for the same museum in Paris.
“Look at this,” Tony said, pointing to a figure on horseback at the entrance. “It’s Joan of Arc.”
“Ah. So it is. We claim her, don’t we? Even if she wasn’t a lesbian, she was a cross-dresser, yes?”
“Yeah. I think so.” Tony laughed. She’d never thought of that.
“Okay. This a Rodin sculpture. The real thing,” Tony said as they walked through the courtyard entrance.
“Wow,” Sheila said.
“And over there, the Pacific Ocean.” Tony waved her right arm toward it.
Sheila grinned. “Yes, it’s all quite something.”
It was enjoyable to watch Sheila’s reactions as they wandered through the galleries. She’d suddenly stop in front of some Old Master painting, a Rembrandt or something, and grab Tony’s arm.
“Oh, my God,” she’d whisper. “Who the heck is this?” She meant who was the person in the painting. She’d read all the little explanations and stare at the painting. Then she’d say something like, “Why is his expression sad?” Or “What was she thinking while she was getting her portrait painted?” And Sheila would turn to Tony as though she had the answer. Tony would shake her head. Sheila’s reactions to what they were seeing amused and touched her.
After they exhausted themselves looking at art, they bought some coffees and took them outside to enjoy the view some more. The sun came out but just barely.
“You don’t have to talk about work if you don’t want to, but I am curious, and I hope you don’t mind if I ask you about it,” Sheila said, somewhat hesitantly.
Tony was gratified that Sheila wasn’t aggressive when it came to probing her for information about herself. Tony was out of practice at disclosing what she was thinking, or perhaps more accurately, she’d never been in practice, so she appreciated Sheila’s giving her a choice in the matter. It was another thing at odds with Tony’s preconceived notion of the kind of woman Sheila was. She expected Sheila to be hard-charging and sort of a don’t-take-no-for-an-answer sort of person, but she wasn’t.
“No. I don’t mind. It’s sort of in a holding pattern, since my manager left last week. I have stuff to do, but I haven’t been given either a new boss or a new set of tasks and priorities. I don’t like it.”
“I’m not surprised. I bet you like to keep busy and engaged.”
“Sure. But it’s more than that. I have no idea of the bigger picture. I didn’t even have that when Abe was still around. Well, I mean I know the big picture in the global sense. But I don’t know what other people in the company are doing or how it all fits together. Erica doesn’t talk about it. We’re all on separate networks. I can’t even email someone in another group. Or message them.”
Sheila frowned. “That seems odd. People usually need to communicate.”
Tony nodded. “I thought so too, but I wasn’t sure. Let’s walk down the road a little way, admire the view some more, and then I think we need to go out to dinner on Clement Street, and given the neighborhood is my old stomping grounds, we have to do Pacific Rim cuisines. Whatever variety you like. I’m open.”
“Oh, wow. In that case, I want Cambodian.”
“Great idea. I know just the place.”
At dinner, in answer to Sheila’s question, Tony said, “I grew up about five blocks from here. It was good, I guess. It’s a more suburban part of the City. My grade school was mixed Chinese and Caucasian. I went to Lowell High School, which has a lot of Asians. Since I’m not one hundred percent Chinese, I got kind of teased about that.”
Sheila scrutinized her for a moment. “Did that hurt your feelings?”
Tony thought about the question. “Not exactly. I tried not to let it bother me, but I wasn’t part of any of the cliques. I behaved like your typical high-achieving Chinese kid. I thought that would help make the other Chinese kids accept me, but it didn’t. I had like one friend, who was Caucasian. I ended up mostly keeping to myself. I felt like I didn’t fit in anywhere.
“Were you lonely?”
“Looking back, I was, but I tried to ignore it. I spent a lot of time with my dad. We built things.”
“Lovely. I was close to my dad, Roy, too. Because we were tight, my mom felt left out. When they got a divorce, I said I wanted to live with my dad, and they said okay. What about your mother? What was she like?”
“If I could have just lived with my father, I would have been fine with that. My mom died when I was twenty, right after I came out.” Tony paused to drink some wine. How much should she reveal? She wasn’t a good discloser because baring herself made her uneasy. But Sheila was looking at her with a combination of tenderness and encouragement, so she kept talking, and to her surprise, she wanted Sheila to know about her.
“I was sorry when my mom died, but I think I was a little relieved. She wasn’t comfortable with me, ever, in any way. I was always closer to my dad. Unlike most of the Chinese parents I know, he was totally cool with my sexuality. She wasn’t. She was never comfortable with me in any way. I never knew why.”
“Roy was great. It barely registered when I told him. We’re similar in one way: daddy’s girls.” Sheila grinned.
“Yes, though that may be the only way.” Tony grinned back.
Sheila rubbed the rim of her wineglass thoughtfully. “You ought to know this. My dad, Roy, is on the board of GHS. He joined right after we finalized the Series 2 funding.”
“Oh. What’s Series 2?”
“It’s just the name for the second round of investment.”
This time Tony paused. “How much money did you guys put in?”
Sheila looked at Tony levelly. “I’m not supposed to tell you. It’s confidential, but it was thirty million from PP, and my dad put in five mil of his own money.”
It took a couple of moments for Tony to absorb those numbers. She was truly looking at a woman who operated in another reality. Only Sheila’s matter-of-fact statement of the exact figures involved kept Tony grounded. It was monumental that Sheila had let her know how much money was really at stake.
Sheila added, “There were other investors. I think the total may be close to one hundred and seventy-five mil total for Series 2.”
“Million?” Tony whispered.
“Million.” Sheila said, her face expressionless. She added, “Buddhist practice comes in handy when I’m dealing with those amounts of money.”
Tony made a little joke to hide her dismay. “Well, that much money ought to keep the lights on in the lab and buy us a slew of ninety-six well plates.”
“What are those?”
“Nothing. Just a lab gizmo I use a lot of.”
“Right. Erica isn’t specific about where the money goes and how much GHS spends each month. The burn rate, that is.”
“Is that how much money GHS spends?”
“You got it. Usually reported as dollars per month.”
“Huh. Isn’t she kind of accountable to her board of directors?”
“You would think so, but they let her slide on a lot of details, my father tells me.”
“Why would they let her skate on those details?”
“Erica seems to prefer older men.” Sheila spoke straightforwardly but then waited for Tony’s reaction.
“Oh. What do you think that
means?” Tony asked. She wasn’t sure, though it sounded vaguely bad. But her image of corporate life was exclusively populated by men, older or younger. That was what had made her want to work for Erica Sanders. She was one of a kind.
“I’m not sure, but she must have done a lot of serious networking to persuade them,” Sheila said, then added, “They’re all either Valley veterans like my dad or had big high-level government jobs like secretary of state for Bush II. That gives you an idea of the age range.”
“Is it really as icky as it sounds? Older men, young woman?”
“I don’t think it’s overtly sexual, but it’s unconscious.”
“I have another question about the money part,” Tony said.
“Sure.”
“How much money will you make?”
Sheila’s brown eyes glinted, her grin self-satisfied. “Good question. If Erica’s income projections come true, GHS could be bringing in one billion in a couple years, depending on how fast you get to market.”
“One billion for everybody? Her? The company?”
“Yeah, but just for us—our VC company—maybe a hundred and fifty million. I hope you have stock options, kiddo.”
“Yep. I sure do.” Tony tried to sound blasé, but the amounts of money Sheila described astounded her. Sheila truly existed in a whole other realm than she did.
“Then this ought to be an incentive for you work very, very hard.”
Tony just stared at her, dumbfounded.
They shared another tender kiss before Sheila left to go home. Tony savored the memory of it and of the entire evening as she drifted off to sleep. Okay. Maybe this dating thing is fun after all.
* * *
Erica called Tony into her office for a meeting but didn’t say what it was about. Tony therefore didn’t know if she ought to feel flattered or terrified. She sat still, hands on her knees. She’d brought a notepad just in case she needed to take notes.
Erica looked at the ceiling, then out the huge window behind her. It was tinted, and Tony wondered why. It faced the parking lot and was opaque from the outside. Tony had heard Erica’s office windows were bulletproof. Over Erica’s shoulder, Tony could see the Los Altos Hills in the distance. Erica finally turned her chair around to focus on Tony.
“Are you ready to step up?”
“Step up?” Tony echoed, taken off guard.
“We have limited time. I have made a commitment, and I want Leonardo in the hands of the folks at Graff with at least one test ready. For the pilot project. You’re the one I’m counting on. Ibrahim said the immune assay was close to being ready. You’re in the lab. What do you think?”
Tony’s mind raced. The immunoassay was sort of close to release, but not quite. Ibrahim was a slow and exacting worker, and his estimate of time was appropriate, given their work, but she sometimes wondered if he was just a bit too plodding. It was the best practice to change only one assay parameter at a time, but, in some cases, Tony felt, it was better to move forward with something eighty-five to ninety percent sure to work, tweak the remaining parameters in question, and you could hit the target for your results faster. She’d suggested that approach a few times, but Abe always shut her down, and since he was the boss, she stopped asking. But he was likely fired because he wasn’t making things happen fast enough.
“We’re eighty-five percent there. I think we need to do a couple more trials and then can have the immunoassay ready to go.” It was a bold promise, but Tony sensed Erica liked people to be bold because that was what she was.
As she spoke, Tony arranged her face in a somber and trustworthy expression.
Erica played with a lock of her black hair and regarded her without a word for what felt like an eon.
“Three days?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.
“Yes. I can have an answer for you in three days.” Tony wasn’t at all sure this was possible. It was better to under-promise and over-deliver instead of the converse, which was what she’d just done. But this was Erica, and she didn’t want to say no or disappoint her. She was being offered a chance to prove something, perhaps prove her worth.
“Outstanding. That assay is crucial to our plans, and it has to work,” Erica said passionately.
Tony was aware that the standard immunoassay was requested in almost eighty percent of blood-panel orders from doctors, and that was why Erica wanted it right away.
Erica, her eyes shining, stood up and shook Tony’s hand. “I’m thrilled to hear you can do this. Let me know ASAP.”
Tony returned to her desk and wrote up a plan of action. Her hand shook as she listed the experiments in order, noting which assay variables would change and by what degree. They’d been close when Abe left, and the experiments Tony had performed using the rest of his directions had pushed them closer. She’d been planning to talk to Erica in a few days anyhow, since she would need new marching orders as soon as they had the assay up to speed, and she wanted to ask if a new manager would be hired. Evidently, one wouldn’t be. At least not right away.
She took her plan to the lab and began assembling items, preparing to get started. This was a huge opportunity, and she hoped she was up to the task. If Erica wanted results, that’s what Tony intended to provide for her. Great results and delivered on deadline.
* * *
A couple of days later, on Friday, Tony was close to completing her task when Erica came by the lab.
Tony said, “I’ve got just one more trial, and I can let you know by the end of the day.”
Erica beamed and patted her on the shoulder. “Text me any time. I want to know as soon as you do.”
Tony set up the assay and waited nervously through a forty-five-minute incubation for the results. But when she pulled the printout from the spectrophotometer, she knew even before she wrote all the calculations in her notebook that it was good. She’d successfully performed the immunoassay on only fifty microliters of fluid, which was the volume Erica had set for collection of blood samples in the microcaps.
She texted Erica, who phoned her right away and had her come to her office.
“You’re sure?” she asked as Tony sat down.
“Yes. I’m sure. We can do it with the lower volume.”
“Congratulations. I can’t say how much this means to me and our ultimate goal. You’re going to be the new group leader for the immunoassay group, and I’m assigning you to work with Gordo. He will incorporate this test into Leonardo, starting Monday. Take the rest of the day off.” It was only three thirty in the afternoon. Erica never told anyone to take off early. She was a stone workaholic who never left before seven in the evening and expected everyone else to be there too.
Tony walked back to her desk. Her success with the assay overjoyed her, and her promotion stunned her. She hadn’t worked with anyone else in GHS except Abe, and this meant she was moving to the next level. She was going to work with the one of the engineers and could see Leonardo actually perform the immunoassay. She wanted to call Sheila, but she ought to phone her dad first. He was always the one she called first with good news.
“Hey, honey. So good to hear your voice.”
“Hi, Dad. I wanted to tell you right away. I was promoted. My manager left, and Erica gave me his job.”
“Oh, wow, sweetie. That’s fantastic. You deserve it.”
“I hope so. I don’t know much, except I’m going to start working with the engineering department to get the prototype going with our assay.”
“That’s wonderful. You be careful with those engineers, Tony, honey. You know how they are.” He was joking about himself and engineers in general. They were stubborn, exacting, and opinionated—though Joe was so mild-mannered people didn’t notice his flaws. Tony had inherited the same characteristics, which was good, because those characteristics came in handy with lab work too.
“I don’t know if I can come over Friday.” Truthfully, she thought she might be working late or seeing Sheila. Maybe both.
“Sure, sure, hon
ey. Call me in a few days and tell me about your new job.”
“I will. Love you, Dad.”
After about twenty seconds of thought, Tony called Sheila and told her what had happened.
“Congrats. I knew you were a genius.”
“I’m not a genius,” Tony said, embarrassed but pleased as well.
“So, this is a big leap forward for GHS?”
“I don’t know. Yeah. I guess it is. Say, do you want to get together? I’ve been let out of work early. It’s unprecedented.”
“Oh, shoot. No. I can’t today. Back-to-back meetings and then a business dinner. But I’ll miss you. I’m thinking of you.”
Tony gulped. Thinking of you. Sheila sounded deeply regretful.
Sheila said, “We have to celebrate your success sometime soon. Let’s talk tomorrow, okay?”
* * *
Tony and Gordon stood in the engineering lab in front of something that looked somewhat like Rube Goldberg had designed it. When she was ten years old, Tony’s father had introduced her to what a Rube Goldberg device meant. He’d showed it to her as an example of how not to design something.
Leonardo 2.0 was about a third larger than a CPU but had arms coming out—robotic arms, Tony surmised—and a smaller auxiliary box clinging to one side. On the front panel of the main body was an LED and a couple of buttons.
“Wow,” Tony said after giving the contraption the once-over.
“That’s one word for it. A word that could mean either ‘wow, great!’ or ‘wow, what a monstrosity,’” Gordon said, sounding glum, which surprised Tony. Engineers were usually quite proud of their handiwork.
“What do you think? You, after all, are the mastermind behind it, you and your team,” Tony added.
“I’ll keep my opinion to myself around here. That’s safer.”
Tony wanted to know more about what he meant, but she stayed silent. She recalled what Abe had told her before he left. Erica was impatient, to say the least.
“It’s something that she let you actually work with us, face to face. I managed to get her to agree that if lab rats like you, Jack, and Martha could help me, it would go faster. That was the clincher.” Gordon referred to two other assay group leaders, biochemists from R and D, like her. Tony had actually never met them. Having everyone report up to Erica was an odd way to manage. No R and D director. But, hey, she was the boss.
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